Britain currently boasts 13 male squash players in the world's top 50, including three in the top 10. On the women's side, it has 11 players in the world's top 50, with three in the top 10. The Lawn Tennis Association, buoyed only by the aberrational success of the Murray brothers, can only dream of that level of domination.
But if we're so very good at squash, why do we care so little about the professional game? The names of Jonah Barrington and the Khans, Jahangir and Jansher, may resonate with sports fans of a certain age, but who has heard of James Willstrop, Nick Matthew or Peter Barker, the British trio in the world's top 10?
Squash receives virtually no coverage in the mainstream media. Visit the sport homepage of any national newspaper's website, Guardian Unlimited included, and you'll find that the pecking order is roughly the same: the Premier League's 'big four' clubs, football not involving the big four, cricket, rugby, Lewis Hamilton, Andy Murray, golf, horse racing, Ricky Hatton/Joe Calzaghe (delete where applicable), and, finally, 'other sport'.
Squash always comes under 'other sport', along with a random assortment of other unfashionable activities, such as hockey, badminton and bowls. All these three sports feature in the Olympics but squash is not even an Olympic event.
The 2012 London Games would have been the ideal platform for British players to demonstrate their skill, but the IOC decided not to replace softball and baseball, the two sports that were voted off the 2012 programme, with any new activities. Squash was first in the queue but it's still waiting for the Olympic call. Yet without a Steve Redgrave-type figure to both inspire young people to take up the sport and to attract sponsorship, how can squash become anything more than a minority sport?
There are only two times in the last decade that I remember squash breaking free from its cramped, 'other sport' annex. Firstly, when Peter Nicol, a former world champion, chose to compete for England, rather than his native Scotland. Inevitably, he was branded a traitor. Secondly, when Vicky Botwright, a fine player in her own right, declared a desire to wear a skimpy, thong-style outfit on court - cue tabloid-friendly pictures of Botwright wearing such an outfit. She later claimed that it was nothing more than a PR stunt, designed by the Women's International Squash Players Association (who go by the world-beating acronym WISPA). The stunt succeeded in generating a lot of interest in Botwright's bottom, but very little interest in women's squash.
Sports editors care little for squash, but they would argue that they give the public what they want - and the public don't want squash, clearly. In truth, we are a nation of squash players, not squash lovers. Many thousands of Britons play the game, myself included, but who goes to watch a squash tournament?
On Friday, I saw the aforementioned Willstrop defeat Australia's Cameron Pilley in the final of the ISS Canary Wharf Classic, a world ranking event now in its fifth year. I was not surprised to discover that the audience was mainly comprised of white, male thirty/fortysomethings, most of whom had a firm grip on a bottle of Budweiser or Kronenbourg. We were in Canary Wharf after all, and on a Friday evening. These City boys, clad typically in pink shirts, seemed to be having a fine time, even if some of them seemed unsure as to the identity of the competitors. 'Come on Cam!' cheered one. 'Why are you cheering the Aussie?' his mate replied. 'Am I?'
Squash makes for a surprisingly good spectator sport, especially in the modern era, where glass-walled courts and white balls make it easy to follow the action. There are longer, more absorbing rallies than in tennis, whilst the combination of power and finesse is impressive. However, the constant intervention of the referee to adjudicate on lets and strokes (when one player is judged to have interfered with the other's shot, the rally can be replayed - a let - or a free point may be awarded to the player who was impeded - a stroke) becomes rather frustrating, for players and audience alike.
Generally speaking, though, it's a fast, dynamic game: Willstrop took five sets to get the better of Pilley, yet the match lasted little more than an hour. Squash's perennial problem lies in the player-audience dynamic. The players are contained by four walls, which makes it difficult for spectators to relate to those on court, even in a live setting. I did not feel that I gained much by watching the players in the flesh, rather than on TV. Maybe, in the distant future, some genius will figure out a way to remove the walls. Until then, squash will stay in its little box, marked 'other sport'.
